


Father, have mercy on your son

by BeesKnees



Category: Sands of Arawiya - Hafsah Faizal, We Hunt the Flame
Genre: Awkward Family Trip, Canon Compliant, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Manipulation, Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: “They left you behind,” the Lion of the Night whispers silkily to his light-laced son.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Father, have mercy on your son

“They left you behind,” the Lion of the Night whispers silkily to his light-laced son.

“You took me,” Altair snaps. 

The room around them slows, and the Lion smiles. This is progress. He has sat with his son for days now. He has been quiet. He has simply existed, trying to wear down his son's craftily crafted walls so that he sees the Lion as less of a threat. Yesterday, Altair would have not even acknowledged him or given him an answer. Today, he not only receives one but he receives one with an edge. 

“Both things are true,” the Lion says, and they both know he is right. 

The Lion was never interested in being a father. The truth of it is that his interest in Altair stems from his interest in most things: curiosity. Had Anadil simply left Altair behind or let the Lion see him as he pleased, this would have been a different story. As it was, the Lion had sniffed out for scraps of knowledge that Anadil let slip loose. She had been careful to shield Altair from him, and Altair had certainly never strayed far enough into the shadows for the Lion to call to him. 

So, he's made due with the secondhand whisperings of the general from nowhere, of his charm and his flirtatious nature. 

He isn't so proud that he can't admit that he faltered when it came to killing Altair. He could have, had he had to. But it just seemed like a waste. There was still something to be gained, so the Lion had been soft and slow. He doesn't regret that now.

Anadil's problem has always been that she is her own worst enemy. They may paint him as the greater evil, the being that transformed her. But he has simply only been near and been good at being around other people. Anadil couldn't let Altair go but nor could she love him, so here is now, a lonely boy in the Lion's hands. And there is Nasir, Anadil's much-beloved second son, drowning in darkness and blood.

Altair is still working through his surprise at his own words, and so the Lion lets him be. It is enough for one day. They have time. 

The Lion leaves. He does not press his advantage. And the next day Altair is back to playing with his light as if nothing has happened, as if the play at normalcy will save him. As if there is no Lion's bite to fear.

“Come,” the Lion says one day soon after when he can sense that Altair is growing too restless in the hold of the ship. Many other men would not have followed after the Lion and into the light. But here is where he begins to see slivers of himself in his son: Altair is curious. And so he does follow.

He blinks as they come out onto deck. Despite his obsessive use of his light, it is little compared to the blinding sunshine. Altair breathes in and out, taking the salty sea air into his lungs. Some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. He catches himself after a moment and takes a look about at the beings that surround them – ifrits everywhere. 

The Lion strolls to the railing, and Altair, for a lack of anything else to do, follows him. Altair takes in the sea around them, studies the angle of the sun in the sky and the direction of the wind. The Lion watches him. He doubts that many people would be able to see what Altair is doing, but he suspects that Altair is able to come to a fairly useful prediction of where they are and where they're heading. How strange, the Lion thinks. That the intelligence is what he feels the need to hide. That this is the only thing that Anadil has taught him. He must not be too much of anything – he must not be noticable for anything remarkable. 

“They left you,” the Lion says again. It is less of a taunt this time and more of an observation.

“Yes,” Altair says tiredly. He turns to look the Lion full in the face. They examine each other, father and son. Supposed enemies. “Why didn't you?”

“What a waste,” the Lion answers with a click of his tongue. He turns and walks away before Altair can answer. He wants to know, though, what his answer provokes in his son: is it a continued terror? A continued wariness? Or, is it as the Lion hopes, the realization that, perhaps, there is someone who sees him for the value that he could bring? Perhaps too soon for the latter. 

Each day, they head outside now. It moves from walking to the rail to a slow turn about the ship. Still without conversation, but the Lion can see where Altair is more relaxed, where his pace is less guarded. 

“They shouldn't have left you,” the Lion says when their day draws to an end. 

“You killed Benyamin,” Altair answers, anger and hurt flaring hot to the surface.

“I didn't mean to,” the Lion answers. “You know I wasn't trying to kill him. I loved him once too,” the Lion says, pressing a hand over his heart. “He was my brother and family once too.” 

Altair's pain is getting the better of him. The Lion can see the struggle in him. The Lion steps in closer to him. 

“You think I don't know the pain of losing him as well?” the Lion asks, low. “I wasn't the one who brought him.” 

“You don't care about any of us,” Altair throws back. He is trying to swallow back his words before he says them, but his charade cannot get the better of his person. This is what is underneath that mask that he has learned to wear all those years. These are the wounds that Anadil has inflicted upon their son.

“You care only about how you can use,” Altair seethes. 

“That is the way the world makes men,” the Lion says, drawing back as if regretful. “And I think you know that, my son.” 

After that, Altair tries to redraw the line between them. He refuses to see the Lion, speak to him or follow him. But the Lion is patient. He has seen this battle play out over and over. That line can never be fully redrawn. There is a part of Altair that will worry the words they have exchanged ragged. He will berate himself for the few he gave – and wish that he had given more. He will examine the ones that the Lion gave, turning them over and over and reading them in new lights. Wondering which bits are the truth and which bits lie, and if all of them are tricks. Does it matter? He will worry for the safety of his soul. But in the end, his loneliness will get the better of him, because that is the truest part of him that was made by his parents. It may have been the part that he has worked against the majority of his life, knowing exactly who his parents are and what it has cost them. But, with loneliness, the Lion has learned, it's always just a matter of time. People, and especially those like Altair, are not made for solitude.

So, the Lion begins again. He enters the room where Altair is staying. His son is past the charming facade. He spends a little time in dedication to ignoring the Lion. He moves quickly to grim acceptance.

“What are you going to do with me?” Altair asks. He is so tired. He is tired because he has spent lifetimes trying to fit himself into a world that he does not belong. To a family who did not want him. 

“I'm going to take you home,” the Lion says plainly. 

Altair turns away.

“They left you behind,” the Lion says again.

“Yes,” Altair answers, an admission. 

“They shouldn't have,” the Lion says again. 

“No,” Altair agrees. 

“What shall we do about that?” the Lion asks. Altair looks to him. 

He's no longer afraid. Altair knows that the Lion will use him, but he's no longer as afraid as he was when they boarded this ship together. The Lion may bring ruin upon Altair's mother and half brother through him, but Altair is no longer afraid of that. So, the Lion is proud. He may not yet welcome what will come to pass but he has come to understand it. 

“Why did you stand with Nasir anyway?” the Lion asks, curious. He doesn't know if they're at this point of truth telling yet, but he asks. 

Altair pauses. 

“She asked me to,” he says as if the answer is simple when it is anything but. 

The Lion laughs, and he watches that phantom pain flicker against Altair's face.

“She was the first to leave you,” the Lion points out gracelessly, “and Nasir is a monster.” 

“You made him a monster,” Altair answers sharply.

The Lion shrugs.

“It wasn't terribly hard,” he says. “I could only work with what was already in his heart. He had to help me make him a monster.” He pauses. “So, saving him for the mother who didn't want to be your mother. Or saving him from the father who lets him see himself for what he is. Neither sound as if he is worthy of your devotion, Altair.” 

He is chipping away, sentence by sentence, to the truth of Altair. He enjoys this part of knowing the best. It is one thing to learn something new and rare, to discover a written text that has not been seen for ages, to be told a story that is remembered by one single person. It is another to strip a person down to their core. It is a particular skill. 

“You hate him,” the Lion surmises.

“Sometimes,” Altair admits. 

“Then, why?” the Lion asks again. 

“I love Arawiya,” Altair says as if confessing. “And I know that for all that she might not love me, she does love Arawiya. And she chose Nasir to protect Arawiya. So, if she believes that he is the best chance that our country has, I believe her.” 

“That's a blind and beautiful faith,” the Lion comments. He means it. Altair searches his face for the mocking comment but does not find it. He is clearly at a loss for how to react. 

“Why do you have to destroy it at all?” Altair asks. 

“I want all of it,” the Lion says with an artful shrug. “I hunger for this world too – to know all of it. But time and time again there are those who say I should not and cannot. So, I get rid of my obstacles, Altair. Is that not a thing you understand? The yearning for everything and a home everywhere?” 

Altair looks sick with himself, which is how the Lion knows that he is making way. 

“Have you not been through as much pain as your beloved younger brother?” the Lion half whispers. “But you have not let yourself be turned into a monster, have you? Why should the world only be made and resaved in the names of Nasir and Anadil? Do you intend to stay hidden while he reaps those rewards? Returns magic? Wins the hand of the legendary Huntress?”

Altair closes his eyes. He fists his right hand, and the Lion can see light spilling between his knuckles as if it can save him from the shadows in his mind. 

“You know I love the Huntress too,” the Lion coos, “that she is favored by me. I want her to make it to the end of our tale. So, why don't we make sure we know who the hero of this story should be, son? Why don't we make sure that when it is all said and done that Nasir Ghameq is held accountable for his crimes? What a beautiful world we can all make. No more hiding for any of us. No more imprisonment for any of us. No rejection for any of us.

“Tell me, son, where is the monstrosity in that?” 

The light in Altair's hand flickers. He resolves himself and then opens his eyes.

“You must be merciful to Nasir and our mother,” Altair says.

What delight! The Lion has been alone for so long he has forgotten the thrill of this game, the twist of the words and bending of a person's will. He has forgotten the evil he can inspire in people's hearts when they believe they are working in the name of good. He craves seeing Anadil's face when they meet once again, when she realizes that all her work hiding Altair has been for naught. She has so much more to fear than the Lion simply killing or torturing their son. 

The Lion smiles. He presses a hand against his heart.

“As a show of good will toward you, my son,” the Lion says, “I will let you decide their fates.”


End file.
